


My Darling Girl

by DuccleMinded



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark, Drugs, F/M, Non Consensual, Post Reichenbach, Rape, Violence, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuccleMinded/pseuds/DuccleMinded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not a fun fic either. Please be warned!! </p><p>Molly falls into a trap in which Jim is looking for Sherlock's location. Molly of course will never tell him, and so he tries to get to her the only way he knows how...</p><p>So, so, incredibly dark, ladies and gentleman! Read at your own risk, please! (I'm so sorry, Molly Hooper!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Darling Girl

**Author's Note:**

> "Doctor Watson will be out of the picture soon. Sherlock has disappeared and abandoned him. John's a military man. He'll get over it and he'll get over it faster then you think he will. He'll move on, get married and start a family and forget all about the consulting dectetive. Sherlock will turn into someone that John used to know.”

_M._

_Please meet me at the old bookstore two blocks south of Barts._

_Come at once if convenient._

_SH._

 

 

 

Molly had taken two steps into the bookstore before she realized that it was a trap. But before she had manged to get out, something large and heavy had hit her on the head.  _Oh,_  she had thought, just as the world went away,  _how embarrassing is this? Sherlock will not let me live this down..._

 

And now here she was. Tied to a chair in some dark room, waking up to the smell of smoke and some kind of expensive cologne. She recognized this cologne. 

 

“I'm awake...” Molly called out, unafraid. She stretched her arms a bit, testing the bonds. They were strong. “Hello? Jim?”

 

"You know," came the voice she dreaded, "I've told people time and time again to call me Jim, but nobody ever does."

 

Molly waited until he came into her line of view. She didn't even blink an eye at him, wasn't at all surprised to find him  _alive_  and well (or alive at least). Something coiling deep down in her stomach told her that he wasn't dead- it was all a trick, wasn't it? A magic trick? She smiled coyly and pretended to be brave.  _Let's be someone else today_ , she thought.

 

“Hiiii,” Jim sung in a high pitched voice.

 

Molly ignored his greeting and stretched her arms again, looking at him incredulously.

 

“Are these really necessary?”

 

“No, ha! No of course not. You of all people should know my flair for the dramatic,” Jim grinned, straightening his suit and re buttoning it. “I suppose you know why you're here.”

 

Molly shook her head. "Haven't the foggiest."

 

“Please,” Jim said, “don't bore me. Nobody likes a spoil-sport.”

 

“Well,” Molly would have put a finger to her lips sarcastically if her hands weren't tied. “I'll take a guess that it's about Sherlock's whereabouts. Am I right?”

 

“Right on the money.”

 

“But,” Molly said, smiling on her own, “That couldn't be why you actually brought me here, you should know me well enough to know that I wouldn't simply tell you where he is. You want me for my body-”

 

Jim raised an eyebrow and Molly kept talking.

 

“Meaning,” she closed her eyes and wished she had worded that better, "you kidnapped me hoping to get him to come to my rescue which simply will not happen because-”

 

“Because he's not in London. Is he?”

 

Molly's eyes shot open. How did Jim know that.

 

“How do you know he's not in London?” Molly asked, trying to stay calm.

 

Jim smiled. “My dear, if he was in London, he would have already been here by now.”

 

He laughed to himself. Molly licked her dry lips and tried to stay focus.

 

"Believe it or not, I actually  _do_  want you to tell me where he is.”

 

“I don't know,” Molly said, immediately. Jim smiled.

 

“This isn't our first meeting,” he said, coming closer to her. “But it's our first honest chat, friend to friend.”

 

“I don't think we're friends.”

 

“And I do not know what breaks you.”

 

Jim smacked her across the face. It was a hard smack and the palm of his hand caught on to her cheek and it stung. Her face went in the direction of his hand and she barely had time to steady herself using her feet. Molly glared up at Jim with daggers in her eyes. Jim waved his hand about, as if it actually hurt.

 

“See, now I knew that wouldn't work,” he said, scolding himself. “You're not much for physical violence, are you?”

 

Molly said nothing and tried to ignore the stinging sensation in her cheek. Jim just shook his head.

 

“So you really don't know where he is?”

 

“Where who is?”

 

Jim slapped her with his other hand, just as hard. Molly gasped and cleared her throat immediately after. This was nothing. She could take it. Jim wasted no more time.

 

“Where is Sherlock Holmes!!!”

 

The question came as a shriek. Molly just shook her head and closed her eyes, waiting for the other slap.

 

It came as a punch. Molly had never been punched in the face before. Her nose exploded and she felt it might have been broken. She could taste her own blood on her lips. Tears stung the back of her eyes. It was a natural instinct, of course no need to be embarrassed. Anyone who got punched in the face would cry.

 

“Hmm,” Jim said, grabbing her by the hair, forcing her face up so he could get a good look at her. “Only a minimal reaction. It's a shame, but I'm not surprised. Here.”

 

Jim handed her his own handkerchief. Then he laughed realizing she was still tied.

 

“I'll help you,” Jim reached out to dab her nose with the soft tissue, but Molly pulled away.

 

“Don't touch me,” she growled.

 

Jim tut tutted and grabbed her by the hair again. 

 

“Don't be ridiculous, let me get that cleaned up for you.”

 

Jim cupped her face in his hand and cleaned her up, gently. She hated the way he was touching her. She wished he would just keep smacking her around. This reminded her too much of the way she wished Sherlock would touch her.

 

He had let Molly touch him. Once. The day after Sherlock visited the his own grave and watched John Watson put flowers where someone else's body lay, he had come to her doorstep. She had wordlessly let him in and he had collapsed on her couch. Molly had give him tea, sat down next to him, and patted his head. The patting turned into stroking and before she knew it, she was running her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. In the morning he was gone.

 

Molly snapped back to reality. Where was Sherlock now anyway? No- wrong thing to think about. Wherever he was, he was probably safe. That was all that really mattered, wasn't it?

 

“There now,” Jim said in an unusually soft tone. “I knew there was a sweet little lady underneath all that red.”

 

Molly eyed the handkerchief. It was covered in her blood. It made her feel a bit sick. Jim push the cloth back into his pocket.

 

“Beatings aren't going to be the answer today,” Jim said, rubbing the top of her head the way he would a dog. “I mean, we could go on for hours, but I just get the feeling that I would be disappointed by the outcome.”

 

“Bloody girls don't turn you on, do they?” Molly sneered.

 

Jim just grinned. He walked around her chair, quietly. Molly stared straight ahead, trying not to worry about where he was.

 

 “Miss Hooper,” his voice came suddenly to her right. Molly kept staring straight ahead. “What can I possibly do to get an answer out of you.”

 

“Nothing,” Molly said, tilting her head slightly so that her eyes met with Jim's. She frowned. “I will never give Sherlock away to anyone. Especially not to you. That's a promise.”

 

She thought Jim would be mad, but he just smiled. A toothy smile that made Molly cringe.

 

“You are so loyal,” Jim reached over to touch her cheek. Molly flinched away. Jim caught her by the chin. “And quite pretty. I didn't just randomly pick you to be my pseudo girlfriend you know, I actually do find you attractive...”

 

He tilted her head this way and that. Examining her. Molly's eyes gave herself away. She was scared. She hated Jim's tone of voice.

 

“Do you know what loyalty tastes like?” Jim's voice dipped into one of a professor's- like he was trying to explain something.

 

He leaned in and kissed Molly on the mouth. She tried to throw her head back, but by this time Jim had both hands over her face, holding her steady. His tongue slid in her mouth and she growled in agitation. She almost bit him, but he pulled away just in time.

 

“Tastes like love,” Jim said. He grinned. “And we all know what that tastes like, don't we?”

 

Molly just glared at him.

 

“Weakness.”

 

Molly frowned and looked away.

 

“Tell me, Molly,” Jim said, finally backing away from the girl. “Do you love your consulting detective?”

 

“He isn't mine,” Molly said, feeling cheeky. “He belongs to John.”

 

“Watson!” Jim laughed out loud and Molly almost wished she hadn't brought him up. “It's cute that you think that. You think that John's part of the plans at all anymore. Adorable.”

 

Jim shook his head and patted Molly condescendingly on the head.

 

“No, my dear. Haven't you picked up on it? Doctor Watson will be out of the picture. Sherlock has disappeared and abandoned him. John's a military man. He'll get over it and he'll get over it faster then you think he will. He'll move on, get married and start a family and forget all about the consulting dectetive. Sherlock will turn into someone that John used to know.” 

 

Molly didn't notice that her mouth gaped open. His words were cutting her more than she thought they would. He was getting to her. Jim looked at his fingernails. 

 

“But you. You have all the time in the world for him, don't you? You're a slave to every whim he has. He doesn't need John anyway, he's got a replacement."

 

"Jealous, are we?" Molly sneered before she thought better about it.

 

Jim's mouth twitched, just a bit. He regained himself quickly and snickered. “You haven't lost your spirit. I like that.”

 

He suddenly struck out and grabbed her by the throat. Instinctively, Molly tried to grab at his hands, but they were still tied behind her on the chair. Her eyes were wild and she tried to hold her breath as Jim squeezed.

 

“A bit of pep in one's step is usually good for one's health. However... There are always exceptions, are there not?”

 

Molly swallowed and the lump hurt going down. She closed her eyes because she knew she couldn't control them anymore and she didn't want Jim to see her crying. But the tears leaked down her cheeks anyway.

 

"Do you want me to stop?"

 

Molly said nothing.

 

"Where is Sherlock Holmes?"

 

Still nothing, but her brain was going a bit fuzzy. Things were blurring even though her eyes weren't open. Jim squeezed a little harder and she could feel consciousness drift out of her, but at the very last second, he let go. Reality came crashing back into her and her head reeled at the sudden focus. She coughed and coughed.

 

Molly blinked a couple times and she watched Jim move over towards a table with a glass pitcher of water and a cup. Whistling a happy sounding tune, he poured some her some water and walked back to her casually. He put the water to her lips. Molly tightened them and tilted her head away, glaring at him with those eyes. Dark and untrusting.

 

“Go ahead,” Jim said, tipping the water into her closed mouth, letting it drip. "It's not drugged, I promise."

 

He laid a hand on her knee, slowly caressing his way up to her thigh. Molly squeezed her eyes shut and ignored the desperate whimpering she wanted to make. When he squeezed her inner thigh, she gave in and whimpered, opening her mouth enough to let the water in. She immediately tried to spit it out, but Jim already had his hand over her mouth and was massaging her throat. She was forced to drink.

 

“There's my good girl,” Jim smiled. He reached down and untied her hands and feet. Molly shoved herself forward and fell out of her chair.

 

Molly got into a coughing fit yet again. She suddenly felt light headed and woozy. Jim was still in front of her. He put a finger to his lips and then shrugged as if he'd forgotten to say something.

 

“Oh dear!” he said in sing song, “I'm afraid I might have told a little white lie.”

 

“You bastard...” Molly said. She tried desperately to get up, but to no avail. Slowly, she slumped to the floor, screaming Sherlock's name in her head.

 

*

 

Blurry, blurry. Everything is blurry. Everything is out of sorts.

 

She is saying goodbye to Sherlock. He is not telling her where he is going, which is probably for the best. She knows that he's leaving the country, most likely for an indefinite amount of time. Years, perhaps. Mycroft will send her funds which she will later send to Sherlock at a disclosed time. 

 

Right now, Molly is putting him on a train to who knows where. She hands him a small paper bag. As Sherlock takes it from her, she can see his eyes calculate the weight and the shape. A tuna salad sandwich with some chips, an apple, and a fruit punch juice box. He smiles at her and she tries not to think about it too much. This might be the last time she ever sees him. She pats his arm and nods her head firmly.

 

"Good luck, Sherlock Holmes," she says, trying to say calm as he leans down to quietly kiss her on the cheek for the second time in her life.

 

"Molly," she shivers as he says her name, "thank you. For everything."

 

Blurry. Blurry...

 

*

 

“Sh... Sherlock?” Molly moaned in her sleep, just coming out of her daze.

 

“Shh...” a voice above her said, “it's alright my darling girl. Wake back up now, that's it.”

 

_My darling girl_ . Molly felt like crying. Sherlock would never called her that. It was Jim.

 

She opened her eyes and immediately wished that she was still sleeping. She was lying naked on a towel in the room. She tried to cover herself with her arms, but even she could see that there was no real point. She was completely exposed. There was that table on her right side which held the pitcher of water and now had expensive looking clothes folded neatly on top of it. Clothes... Jim's clothes...

 

Molly gasped aloud and tried to prop herself up, but she was pushed back down by Jim. He was naked too. Molly closed her eyes. How could this be happening. This wasn't happening. Jim laid a firm hand in the middle of her breasts. Molly whimpered. She was too scared to move. Jim leaned down and licked the inside of her ear.

 

"This, my sweet girl, is your last chance," he said in a very gentle and dangerous voice. "Tell me where Sherlock Holmes is."

 

Molly glared up at him, all the fury in the world compacted into her eyes.

 

"No."

 

Jim shrugged. "So be it."

 

His hands traveled down her sides and around her curves and Molly looked up at the ceiling. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and circumstances considering, she was taking everything with as much stride as she could muster.

 

Jim made a particularly big show about placing four fingers into his mouth and wetting them with his own spit. Molly swallowed and reached up to stop his hands, but this just proved to be a mistake. Jim simply slapped her hands down and held both of hers with one of his. He held her hands to her belly, and she couldn't move them. It wasn't that she didn't try, she tried very hard to move, to get away, to breathe. But the drugs were still coursing inside her and they made her weak. So all she could do was watch. Watch as Jim stuck his digits into her without waiting.

 

Molly cried out.

 

"Does it hurt?" Jim sneered. He curled his fingers inside of her, getting her body ready.

 

Molly tried to twist away, but there was no real point in doing anything.

 

"Tell me!" Jim yelled, suddenly, "does it hurt!"

 

"Yes!" Molly cried, "it hurts! It hurts!"

 

"Not as much as this will..."

 

When Jim entered her, Molly squeezed her eyes shut. He was big and she was new to this. He was stretching her out and it burned. She closed her eyes and refused to make a sound.

 

“Oh  _god_ ,” Moriarty made sure to moan extra loud in Molly's ear, only tormenting her more. “You are so  _tight_...”

 

He pushed in and pulled out slowly, as if he were savoring the moment. Molly bit her lip, finding it harder and harder not to scream. Jim licked her neck tenderly and then bit down. Molly suppressed a yelp at first, but when he did it again, she finally succumbed.

 

"Stop... Please..." she barely managed a whisper, "please, I'm begging you."

 

“Fall into it, my dear.” Jim's voice watered. “Enjoy it.”

 

Molly pushed on Jim's chest, making a feeble attempt to push him off. He just grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. With the same movement, he went in even deeper and Molly cried out in pain.

 

_Don't beg,_  she thought to herself,  _don't beg. Just demand for this to stop._

 

"Stop!!" Molly yelled out. She wanted her voice to sound more steady, but she was shaking terribly and it showed.

 

She wiggled one hand free and clawed at Jim's back. He growled in a lustful manner and grabbed her hand back. She tried to kicked her legs out from underneath him, but his body was forcefully on top of hers. He was too heavy.  He was so much stronger then he ever looked. She wasn't going anywhere.

 

Molly screamed. She screamed at the top of her lungs, and at least that felt good. She was in pain. She was scared. Screaming was helping a bit, she was vindicating herself. But Jim would have none of this.He pinned both her hands above her head with one hand and reached over to cover her mouth with the other one. His fingers found their way into her mouth and he forced them inside. She gagged.

 

"I love it when you scream," he whispered harshly in her ear, "but I don't want to come too soon..."

 

Molly started crying again. In the minutes that followed, she tried fruitlessly to move or get away, but nothing was working. Her body had betrayed her in the worst possible way; the cock slamming in and out of her wasn't hurting anymore. There was no more stinging or burning or stretching. Her body had given up just like her mind had. Jim took his fingers out of her mouth and wiped her saliva on her chest. Molly wasn't making anymore noise. She just looked up at Jim, expressionless and waited for it all to end.

 

She didn't have very long to wait. Jim's mouth began to gape open only to shut close instantly. Molly could tell that he was losing control. He was going to come soon. Molly squeezed her eyes shut again and tried not to think about him doing that inside her.

 

And he didn't. Molly felt sick as he yanked himself out of her painfully. He came all over her chest and face. When Molly felt the warm, sticky liquid land on her, she started convulsing and shaking all over. There was a scream somewhere in her throat, but she couldn't pull it out quick enough, so it just stayed there and she kept trembling. She let her head fall to the side.

 

“Oh, my darling...” Jim would have collapsed on top of her, but he steadied himself with his arms. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

 

He tilted her head and kissed her mouth. Molly's eyes were distant and she let him. She did not stop shaking.

 

“I hate to leave you like this,” Jim said, although something in his tone of voice told Molly otherwise. “But, I'm sure you can understand why I actually want someone to find you in this predicament. Yes? Dear?”

 

Molly said nothing. If it wasn't for her trembling, Jim would have thought that he had killed her. Which would be... Eh, disappointing, but not all together horrible. He walked over to the table. He put underwear and pants on, but nothing more. He got a syringe ready, flicked it with his fingers, and strolled back over to Molly.

 

“Alright, my darling girl. I get it,” he pushed the needled into Molly's arm. Her eyes flickered. "You know if you would have just told me where Sherlock was, I think we could have avoided this."

 

Molly didn't hear him, though. She was somewhere else entirely. Jim nodded to himself, as if she had spoke back to him anyway.

 

“I've put you through enough tonight, haven't I? That's okay, sleep now.”

 

The drugs were heavy on her eyes, but Molly didn't trust herself to fall asleep again with this... Cretin near here. She fought it as best she could, but it wasn't working. Her eyes fluttered.

 

“Sherlock...” she whimpered as she dozed off.

 

Jim smiled, but Molly had her eyes closed, so she didn't see it.

 

“Oh yes,” she heard him say, right before the dark claimed her, “he'll know what transpired here. No matter where he is. I'll make sure of it.”

 

There was some part of Molly stuck on again. She smiled and turned to Jim in a daze.

 

"No matter where he is," she repeated. She was grinning in a sick kind of way, "you still don't know...You idiot..."

 

Jim stared at her as she began giggling. The giggling turned into a laughter that Molly had never heard from anyone before, much less herself. In fact, when Lestrade and his crew found her later that evening, she was still laughing to herself. 

 

"What an idiot," she kept saying as she was carried onto the stretcher and into the ambulance, "what a bloody idiot."


End file.
